


The Road Less Travelled

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: First Time, Hell Is Terrible, Historical, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Aziraphale, conversations about consent, inhuman anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21520393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: In which Aziraphale is missing very important information, and Crawly gets a lot of mixed messages.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 84
Kudos: 1012
Collections: Good Omens (Complete works), Ixnael’s Recommendations, Our Own Side, Top Aziraphale Recs





	The Road Less Travelled

"So, Romans then?" Crawly offers, over what's turning out to be a fairly unimpressive sort of wine. It's a conversation starter really, a hopeful one, since Aziraphale has been here a while but still seems oddly quiet, Crawly likes to think he knows him well enough by now to know that it's out of character for him. For all that he's barely talking the angel's hands are restless in his lap, fingers anxiously worrying at each other.

"I hear they're going to do a lot of good for the area," Aziraphale says at last, which isn't exactly a ringing endorsement but feels sort of tacitly approving. So either the angels had a hand in this whole thing, or had decided they'd pretend they did until it became inconvenient. 

"Eh, I dunno, they seem a bit, y'know, intense to me."

"I think they're just very organised." Aziraphale seems to consider this a point in their favour.

Organised is one word for it, certainly.

"And bossy," Crawly adds, scowling down the hill they're both perched on. Not that there's much to see. It's mostly marching, and an awful lot of flags. That's the Roman expansion in a nutshell really, marching and flags. Occasionally a lot of people die very quickly, but mostly it's the marching, and the flags.

"I don't think you can do these sorts of things on such a grand scale without being just a little bit bossy," Aziraphale muses. Then lapses into another long period of silence, expression still sort of pinched and unhappy, while Crawly eyeballs him over his actually pretty terrible wine.

"Alright, angel, what's wrong?" he says at last, because he can't just sit here and watch this.

Aziraphale looks at him, eyebrows shifting up, he looks poised to protest, to dismiss Crawly's question with a lie and one of those smiles that always looks pained. Before he seems to realise that's not going to work, deflates a little.

"Crawly, do you ever wonder -" The angel stops, takes a breath, starts again. "Do you ever feel like you've just been - well, abandoned to -" he stops again. Whatever it is he wants to say he's clearly unwilling or unable to actually get it out. 

"Angel, you're not making sense." 

Aziraphale sighs. "No, I suppose I'm not, I just -" He looks at Crawly, who gives him a hopeful sort of half-smile, he's been practising, and he likes to think he's getting better at them. But Aziraphale pushes himself to his feet abruptly, brushing his tunic off, and Crawly's left hurriedly getting to his feet beside him, cup of wine half spilled on the grass.

"You're not leaving are you?" He tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels, they're both technically opposing forces after all, and they're not really supposed to just hang around in each other's company like this, drinking and making conversation. Aziraphale frets constantly that someone will catch them, that their meetings will 'get back to someone,' and he understands that. But it's been almost four thousand years and no one seems to care what Crawly does, as long as the quotas are met, and the infernal paperwork is signed. Crawly can count the number of demons he's seen up here on one hand, and still have spares left over. "I mean you just got here. There's more wine." There's probably more wine, Crawly will just make some if there isn't, granted it's never the same but it's drinkable at least.

"I'm not leaving." Aziraphale reaches out and catches Crawly's hand, warm fingers slightly sweaty over his own. He tugs him back in the direction of the small, abandoned house Crawly had taken here, and he's so surprised at the spontaneous touching that he lets himself be led, without a sound of protest. This seems important, and if it means the angel will hold his hand a little while longer, then he's more than willing. It's almost embarrassing what he'd do for a bit of hand-holding. Not that he'd tell anyone that. Hell would be fucking _merciless_.

It's dim inside, but seeing in the dark has never been a problem for Crawly. Though he does expect Aziraphale to make himself a light, even lets his pupils contract a little, instinctively. Instead Aziraphale drops Crawly's hand, lifts both of his own instead to Crawly's face, a sudden startling heat against his cheeks and the bend of his jaw. He's so busy enjoying that sensation that he almost misses Aziraphale leaning in and kissing him.

It's a hurried, wet press of mouth and Crawly mostly sort of falls into it, with a sound of desperate approval which he'd never admit to. Aziraphale draws back quickly, as if to check if it's alright, and then when Crawly simply stares at him he kisses him again, and again, then settles for fixing their mouths together for a long moment of soft pressure. Crawly finds himself surprised by how warm Aziraphale's mouth is. The way it just slides over his own, then comes back, presses down, all lips and tongue. He's never felt anything like it before, he could do this for as long as Aziraphale wants. But the angel's already drawing away, and Crawly's mouth is suddenly cold.

"Would you like to?" Aziraphale asks, voice shaking slightly, tone strangely serious, and there's a flush on his face that doesn't appear to be entirely from the wine. Crawly has no idea what Aziraphale's asking him for - not specifically at least, because Crawly wants an awful lot of things right now, but whether they line up with things that Aziraphale wants is still up for debate.

"Yes," Crawly decides, and then adds a nod just to be sure. Aziraphale's gives a relieved sort of laugh and smiles widely, like Crawly's answer made him unbearably happy. And, honestly, anything that makes him look like that is almost certainly going to be something Crawly can't possibly object to. "Anything you want, angel." 

Which it turns out was almost certainly the right thing to say, because Aziraphale says his name, sounding pleased and breathless. As if he was genuinely worried Crawly was going to say no. When has Crawly ever said no to him?

They end up on Crawly's bed, stretched out in the narrow space together on top of the thin blankets, legs wound through each others. Close enough to share body heat, close enough for Crawly to have the angel's inviting, rainstorm scent in his nose and throat. Close enough to feel the flare of his breath against his face. This is the closest they've ever been, and Crawly can't stop touching him, the warm side of Aziraphale's cheek, the plush give of his waist under linen, the tickly feel of his calf under Crawly's bare foot. Aziraphale is so soft and inviting, and Crawly is fairly certain he could keep touching him for days and be happy.

Aziraphale kisses him again, harder than before, a firm push against his mouth that feels greedy, there's no mistaking that for anything other than something that _wants_ which is perfect because Crawly wants too. There are hands sliding his tunic up, cool air drifting on the skin of his knees and thighs, and he gives an encouraging groan of approval into Aziraphale's mouth. He'd been dreaming that something like this might happen, but he hadn't seriously expected it to. He can feel the push of hardness, where Aziraphale has made an effort, against the muscle of his thigh, and he can't resist shifting up and gently pressing into it. Aziraphale makes soft noises under the pressure, then completely different noises when Crawly's brave enough to settle a hand over the linen-covered line of his cock, carefully learn its size and shape through the thin tunic the angel's wearing. And he's tight and shivery with anticipation.

"You feel lovely," Crawly tells him, too warm inside to worry about whether he should be embarrassed. "I've seen a bunch but never touched one before, well except the one that goes with my body, obviously, I've heard they're nice."

Aziraphale smiles and he doesn't even try to hide how flushed with pleasure he is. Crawly honestly just wants to rub his face all over him. Which he's fairly sure is behaviour unbecoming a demon. Not that he's been a particularly good demon, truth be told. He supposes if no one grasses him up to downstairs then it's fine. The angel puts both hands on his face and kisses him again, mouth hot and open, and Crawly spends a moment being shown what to do, how to open just the right amount, and how to move his tongue in a way that gets a hum of pleasure from the angel. They roll in the bed, and Crawly ends up mostly under Aziraphale, all of his slinky angles tucked against the angel's broader, softer ones. Aziraphale doesn't seem to mind. He gathers Crawly's long lanky weight into him with a sigh, like it's something he's been thinking about - like Aziraphale thought about him too, which is almost too much to process. His tunic is rucked up, thighs bare under Aziraphale's warm hands, and he gives a low hiss of pleasure.

"Is this your first time?" Aziraphale asks, between kisses. Which Crawly is a bit embarrassed about, because honestly it's just the kissing and the human dick that are throwing him a bit.

"Oh, no, I've had sex lots of times," he tells him. "Only just not with one of these yet. Since demon ones are different, more spikes and teeth and hooks and things."

Aziraphale's eyes, which had been watching Crawly with an excited sort of fondness, suddenly go very wide.

"I...sorry, what?" he says faintly.

"Y'know, things to make sure they stay inside you while you're struggling and trying to crawl away." Pun very much not intended, or appreciated, ever. Crawly was seriously thinking about changing his name.

"While you're trying -" Aziraphale's face does something complicated, as if it forgets how to make expressions entirely.

"I expect it's going to be different with you though," Crawly says, maybe too quickly, but he's genuinely excited to try it. Just the thought of being allowed to put his hands on Aziraphale, to have Aziraphale's hands on him. But he doesn't want to sound too desperate. "Since you're not a demon. It'll be more human I suppose." Crawly has seen plenty of humans doing it, and they mostly seem to enjoy it. Though he hasn't really wanted to try it with one of them, they've always seemed so small and breakable. Never around for long enough for him to get used to any of them. "More soft bits and mouths and rubbing, and less in the way of, y'know, choking and open wounds - and probably no one gets called a dirty whore." Crawly has been called much worse than that, but he doesn't want to be vulgar, Aziraphale always wears that face of disapproval when he's overly vulgar.

Crawly's looking forward to trying it out the human way though, which by all accounts is much less invasive and painful. He'd been hoping, he'd thought a little too optimistically, that maybe Aziraphale would agree to try something with him one day. He hadn't expected this much though. 

But Aziraphale's hands aren't touching him any more, they sort of just fall away. The angel shifts back completely, pulls himself upright on the narrow bed. Which is exactly the opposite of what Crawly wants right now, and he's left lying on the bed with his tunic hitched up, suddenly feeling horribly awkward.

"I mean if you wanted to do it like that I'd be ok with that too," Crawly reassures him, just in case. Though he honestly can't imagine Aziraphale doing any of those things. They don't seem like the sort of things the angel would go in for. He really just wants Aziraphale to put his hands back on him. He loves it when the angel touches him, and there's been so much of it in the last few minutes that he's shivery with it. 

"Crawly, no, I would never do that to you, please believe that." Aziraphale's face looks _broken_ , as if Crawly had confessed something terrible. And suddenly he doesn't want to be laying down any more. He pushes his tunic back down and curls himself into a seated position.

"Of course, I shouldn't have mentioned it," Crawly says quietly. Because now Aziraphale doesn't look half as happy to have been touching him, he's easing slightly further away, as Crawly shuffles to the edge of the bed. Which is just _awful_. "I shouldn't have made you think about, well, demon stuff. I know it's not exactly - not exactly like humans do it. But I just, you wanted to know if I had any experience. I'm sorry if you're disgusted by it."

Crawly waves a hand awkwardly until it settles on Aziraphale's leg, people touch each other when they're giving apologies, right? It feels oddly scandalous but once it's there he can't make it move.

"That's not it at all." Aziraphale stops Crawly's hand touching him, and he does it kindly which is somehow worse, catching Crawly's long fingers and gently settling them down on the bed. Crawly very carefully swallows and moves his hand into his own lap, fingers curling tightly. "I didn't realise," Aziraphale says and his voice is oddly thick. "My dear, I honestly didn't know. I'm so very sorry."

"For what?" Crawly asks, because now he's just confused, and hurt. Did he do something wrong, did he make some sort of human sex-having faux pas? Because, honestly, that's not really his fault, sure he's watched a few of them over the years, kind of hard not to really. But he hasn't - taken notes or anything. Or maybe angels do it differently to humans? They hadn't really been all in on the whole skin and bodies thing yet, back when Crawly was - before he got kicked out. But maybe Aziraphale expected something a bit less physical? 

Either way Crawly's buggered it all up by just blurting this out hasn't he? Or, more likely, he's put Aziraphale off the whole thing by mentioning demon sex at all, and that's it isn't it? Aziraphale's probably thoroughly disgusted by the idea of it now. Maybe thoroughly disgusted by Crawly and all the things he's done.

"You've gone off the idea completely now haven't you?" Crawly realises with a sinking feeling. "It's me, isn't it? Of course it is, stupid question. You're an angel and I'm a demon, and I reminded you of that. It wouldn't be - shouldn't expect you to just forget that should I." He makes himself shift away, limbs folding awkwardly until none of him is in danger of touching the angel. Because it's not like he can do anything about it. If Aziraphale was just going to...to pretend he wasn't a demon then he didn't think he wanted to - he didn't want to pretend to be something else.

"Crawly, no." If anything Aziraphale looks even more horrified. "Please don't think that."

"I was kind of looking forward to more of the kissing," Crawly admits, just to rub salt in the bloody wound. "I'd never done that before. Pretty sure that time Belagor bit my tongue off didn't count."

"No, it most certainly didn't," Aziraphale says, voice suddenly angry enough to surprise an eyebrow raise out of Crawly. "Crawly, you understand that what you're describing is not consensual," he says carefully.

Crawly throws him an irritated look. Because what does Aziraphale think he is a complete idiot? 

"Well, _obviously_ , it's hell. There's a, whatjamacallit, hierarchy so everyone knows their place. They want you to be vulnerable and helpless, it's the torture and humiliation thing isn't it. The constant grinding miasma of despair and horror. They've got, I dunno, scrolls nailed up and everything. There's a reason I don't like going back to report in. I don't think wanting it is the point, no one's lining up for it or anything, and I don't like it obviously. It's just, y'know, _hell_. Demons taking their miserable despair out on other demons, so everyone's having a miserable time. Why would anyone - well I mean Asmodeus, but I don't think he counts."

"So, you've never actually had sex with anyone you wanted to." Aziraphale's voice is slow and quiet, as if he's talking more to himself than to Crawly.

Crawly shrugs, then frowns and thinks about it for a bit. It's been four thousand years after all.

"I mean sometimes I was just too bloody tired to avoid it, or I couldn't be bothered to struggle, does that count?"

Aziraphale very slowly shakes his head, and he looks deeply troubled that Crawly didn't already know that.

"I suppose not then." Crawly picks at a stubborn piece of straw that's somehow become threaded through the blanket under him, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "So I guess maybe I don't have as much experience as you then." He feels like this is another point against him. He hadn't even known there were points. He wishes someone had told him there were points. He might have watched more carefully, maybe actually have taken some notes when the humans were doing it.

"I'm afraid I've gone about this in completely the wrong way," Aziraphale says thickly, like he's feeling too many things and they're all horrible. "I didn't know, though that's no excuse, I should have asked, I'm sorry."

Crawly winces, because the apologies are just making him feel worse at this point, like he's the failure here and he doesn't even know why. Half of him wants to call the angel out on it, wants to put up his defences and snap something he knows will be hurtful right back, leave the angel with the shitty wine and the draughty house. But the other half of him just wants Aziraphale to stop wearing that utterly devastated expression - the one that he apparently put there. 

He sighs. "Look, it's fine, don't worry about it, clearly we're not...compatible, hereditary enemies and all that. I'm sure it would have been very nice, but it's _fine_."

Aziraphale clearly doesn't know what to do with that, but at least his face has stopped crumpling in misery, now he just looks confused, and a little pained. So it's better, it's probably better, fucked if Crawly knows. He starts absently gathering the wine cups, stashing them on the shelf beside the bed, because that seems to be the extent of his existence at present, alcohol and naps. That's clearly all he's bloody good for.

"You do deserve nice you know," Aziraphale says suddenly, quiet but intent.

"Right, thanks," Crawly says, a little peevishly if he's being honest. But Aziraphale is a bit guilty of mixed messages here. He sort of wishes he'd just leave him to his mope in peace at this point. They can go their separate ways and once Crawly's had a good sulk, hated himself for a bit, napped for an excessive amount of time, and maybe invented gambling, they can meet up again for better wine and pretend this never happened.

But Aziraphale chooses to be confusing yet again, by carefully touching the back of Crawly's hand, he coaxes it to turn on the bed and slowly threads their fingers together.

"We can do whatever you want to do." It's said quietly but firmly, as if Aziraphale will be happy with anything he chooses.

Crawly genuinely has no idea what's happening any more. Aziraphale's hand is comforting and warm, fingers smooth against his own.

"If I kiss you are you going to make me stop again?" he asks, because that's really all he wants to know.

"I promise I won't make you do anything," Aziraphale tells him. Which is - which is good.

Crawly leans in, lays his fingers carefully against the angel's face, and it's strange being the one to touch first, the one to choose where he puts his hands. The angel's mouth is soft, a plush line of warmth, just a touch bitter from wine, or perhaps from Crawly's mouth, which is a delicious little thrill. He still hasn't had much practice at this, but he thinks he'd enjoy trying to get really good at it. 

"Why don't you show me what you want," Aziraphale suggests. Which is - well that's new and different, and maybe a bit exciting, not that Crawly really needed to be any more excited. He's never had much of a problem with that when it comes to Aziraphale. It's mostly been a lot of determinedly not being excited. Being given permission to desire him and touch him still feels scandalous and overwhelming. Aziraphale seems happy to let him have this now though, he moves wherever Crawly coaxes him to, tilts his head and opens his mouth when Crawly kisses him, tells him when Crawly does things that he likes. He also promises, at Crawly's uncertain look, to tell him if Crawly does anything he _doesn't_ like. 

Crawly asks him where he wants to be touched, and then finds the reactions to doing just that leaves him pressing the angel back into the scratchy straw pillow again. He doesn't grab at Crawly, or try and pin any of him down. Crawly suspects that he won't, that sort of impatient, selfish lust doesn't feel right for the angel. Though he sort of wants to tell Aziraphale that he could, if he wanted to, if he wanted to see what it was like. Crawly doesn't think he'd mind so much if Aziraphale wanted him that way. 

Eventually Aziraphale's hand is tucked under his tunic again, touching him in long, careful strokes, while Crawly is left helplessly bunching Aziraphale's own clothing in his fists and making breathy noises of pleasure, sliding through his curled fingers. It's as if he's incapable of touching the angel while being touched. It's so different when it's someone else's hand on him. He feels a little guilty, but he thinks if he has just a minute more of this he can do something for Aziraphale, he can let him do whatever he wants.

"Angel, can you keep doing that, that feels good," Crawly says quietly. He's pretty sure you're allowed to ask. He's seen humans whispering to each other sometimes, asking for things. Touching where they were told to touch, doing things faster, or slower, or harder. It seemed an efficient sort of way to discover what felt best.

"Of course." Aziraphale just does it with a smile, as if Crawly asking for it is fine, and he can't help the soft, surprised laugh. Because this is so much easier than he'd thought it would be. It always looked so complicated, so many steps to get to the part where you can come together. 

He finds himself pushing at Aziraphale's pale tunic, desperate suddenly to get it up and off, to see all of him. Aziraphale doesn't stop him, doesn't stop Crawly's chilly fingers sliding deliciously up his body and slithering the material off of him. The angel's solid and strong underneath, pale under the slightest dusting of white-blond hair, and every inch of him is fascinating. His smoothly rounded shoulders, the gentle curve of his stomach, his big, shifting thighs and surprisingly lovely hips, his almost delicate pink nipples under Crawly's spread hands, and his cock, laying thick and stiff between them. And it's suddenly unbearable that Crawly is clothed as well, when he could have all of that pressed against him. He reaches for the hem of his own tunic, drags it all the way up and off, long hair sliding forward over his shoulders.

"Oh, look at you." Aziraphale's voice is low and soft, and no one has ever looked at Crawly like that. No one has ever moved their hands up his body like he's something made to be appreciated, something beautiful, to be touched and admired. He means to say something, something dismissive and cutting, only nothing comes out but air, as Aziraphale's hands stroke his ribs and stomach, brush over his nipples, which are weirdly sensitive, and then fold round his thighs, pulling him closer. It makes it easier for Aziraphale to curve into him, mouth open at his throat and jaw, touching him with intent, one hand sliding up the centre of his chest, the other wrapping around his dick again, where he's naked now, and he tips his head down to watch the angel's fingers move on him, finds it almost unbearably arousing.

Crawly wants so many things, some of them complicated, some of them messy, some of them things he doesn't exactly want but feels like he deserves - and most of the time Crawly's smart enough to know the difference. But he knows that he wants Aziraphale on top of him, wants the angel's weight to press him into the bed and pin him there. He wants his legs pushed open and held, wants to be helpless as the angel fucks into him, until he can't feel anything else. He may have a few confusing feelings about this, but in his defence his frame of reference when it comes to sex is fairly demon specific.

The angel wants him though, Crawly can taste it on the air, and it chokes all the breath in his throat and has him pressing up into his touch. Curling an arm around his neck and pulling himself in close while the angel's hand works him tighter and tighter.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Crawly asks breathlessly. Because he's made himself want it, with a raw sort of desperation, he really hopes Aziraphale wants it too. 

Aziraphale's hand slows on him, before it stops moving and settles back on his waist, fingers flexing on the skin. He's frowning like he isn't sure he heard Crawly properly. 

"Do you want me to?" he asks quietly. "We don't have to, if you don't want to, we could just -"

Crawly makes an annoyed noise. Because he doesn't want to go through this again. He already almost fucked it up once.

"Yes, that's what I want. You said I could ask."

"So I did," Aziraphale says shakily, as if Crawly has found a loophole in his earlier granting of permission "Well then, we're going to need some oil," he decides.

Right, yes, humans don't heal as quickly or completely as they do, so things have to be...slipperier. Aziraphale is probably used to that. Crawly waves a hand and there's a large, stoppered jug on the table next to the bed. Probably overkill but he's a little impatient.

Aziraphale makes a relieved noise though, possibly at Crawly not protesting. "How would you like to...?"

Crawly turns in the bed and folds over, spine curving, knees edging apart. 

"You can just oil it and shove it in if you like," Crawly tells him.

There's the sound of a startled, indrawn breath, the careful press of fingers into his hip.

"Crawly, no," Aziraphale says gently, voice sounding strangely thin and quiet. "I'm not going to do that."

Crawly huffs an impatient breath, reminds himself that he doesn't have to get this over with quickly, it's Aziraphale, and it's not going to be terrible. He's seen two male humans fucking, and they seemed to like it well enough. There's no spikes, or barbs, or painfully wide cockheads to contend with. He won't have to fight his way through it, the angel isn't going to break him, it'll be fine. 

It's just that he's never asked for it before, never really wanted it to happen before, and he's jittery with nerves and tension. He wonders briefly if he's made the human body a little too real.

"Alright, fine," he concedes. "Put it in _nicely_ then, just bloody do it."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather - in another position?" Aziraphale asks tentatively.

Which immediately makes Crawly think of other positions Aziraphale could take him in. Of other ways he's watched humans come together, like face to face, so they could touch each other and kiss at the same time. Which Crawly thinks he would probably like, a lot. But the thought of being that vulnerable, of looking straight at Aziraphale while he fucks him - it's a bit much at the moment, if he's being honest. 

"No, this is good," he says, firmly, because he finds he really doesn't want to explain why.

"I suppose it is easier, if you're happy with it." Aziraphale shuffles closer, laying his hands on Crawly's thighs, which pulls a long shiver from him.

"S'ok, that was nice," he says quietly, when Aziraphale's hands lift away, as if worried he'd done something wrong.

There's a quiet moment where the only sound is a jug tipping, and Aziraphale tilts Crawly's hips a fraction. Then there's a spread of oily fingers on his behind, and Crawly can feel another trail of oil on the back of his thigh, the spatter of droplets on the bedding, but then something slides over his arsehole that definitely isn't dick.

"Are you going to finger me?" He means the question to be curious, but his voice comes out cracked and unsteady. The thought of Aziraphale putting his fingers inside him is oddly indecent but strangely appealing.

"Yes," Aziraphale tells him, and pauses. "Is that alright?"

"Huh, yeah, go ahead" The first push is slow and careful, and not even mildly discomforting, just the steady press of a finger sliding inside. He shifts a bit under it, a curious noise breaking out of him. Crawly finds himself concentrating strangely intently on that repetitive push of fingers, the way Aziraphale slowly moves from one to two, and then to three, a wet almost-pleasant stretch that he makes encouraging noises under. 

"Are you ready?" Aziraphale asks, and his voice has gone deep and breathy in a way that makes Crawly's spine curve and then clench in eagerness.

He's never been asked that question before, and he finds it strangely satisfying to give a quiet hum of assent.

Aziraphale carefully curls his hands round Crawly's waist, which is familiar in a way that's definitely not as pleasant, and briefly has him tensing, but Aziraphale simply patiently waits until he relaxes again, before lowering a hand to position himself, and carefully pressing inside.

It's much, much easier than Crawly was expecting, and he makes a noise in his throat, surprised at the slippery push that fills him in one go. Aziraphale waits there again, trembling slightly, until Crawly makes an impatient noise. Only then does he slowly draw back and fill him again. Until Aziraphale is all the way inside, and that's a shivery, pleasurable sort of realisation. Crawly sways back into him, because it's such a slow, steady fill, that stretches him out over and over. But the burn isn't tearing and painful, it's sweet. There's nothing inside but the hard, smooth weight of Aziraphale's dick, and he was right, it is so much more than nice. Crawly's own dick fills and lifts, and he thinks he could probably come like this.

And then Aziraphale starts to move, in slow, careful thrusts and, oh, he could _definitely_ come like this.

It doesn't stop but goes on, that drag of pleasure, over and over on every thrust. It goes sharp and immediate when Aziraphale carefully pulls him back, spine bending as he rises, until Crawly's thighs are sprawled open over his, back against the angel's chest. He gives a little shivery moan of appreciation when it starts again, deeper and harder than before. He likes the way he can move like this, likes the way he can flex into it. This is nothing like the moments he has to himself. There's something intimate and visceral about the angel's hands on him, the angel's strong thighs holding him up, mouth soft and wet against his ear.

"Is this alright?" Aziraphale asks him, as if the answer might actually be no. He groans a breath and drops his hands, folds them over the angel's.

"Yeah, ssss'good, could you - fuck - could you touch me, please?" Crawly doesn't even care if it sound like he's begging. But Aziraphale doesn't judge him, or mock him, or call him names for asking. He just moves a hand, now slippery with oil, and wraps his fingers around the stiff, desperate length of Crawly's dick. "Oh, oh fuck yes, that's good." Crawly can hear himself making soft, whimpery noises in his throat that he'd probably be embarrassed about if his insides weren't currently turning to liquid under every push of Aziraphale's hips. It's good, it's good and the angel is going to make him come.

Crawly squeezes Aziraphale's hand, working his hips back while the angel strokes him and holy fuck, quite literally, he didn't know sex could feel like this. No wonder the humans do it all the fucking time.

He shoves back, short desperate grinds that drive Aziraphale deliciously deep, and nudge something inside him hard, and it's too good, he can't hold it. He lets his thighs spread, gives a shaky moan of surprised pleasure and comes over the angel's moving fingers and his own twitching thighs, stretched open on Aziraphale's cock. He feels like he's bleeding out, and it's fucking incredible.

Aziraphale makes a quiet noise behind him and stops moving, the hand left on Crawly's waist suddenly tight, so tight. He needs his own release, desperately, Crawly can taste it and it's sweet and sharp and perfect. He's still trembling with aftershocks when he nudges back, coaxes Aziraphale to grip his waist in both hands and move again. And it takes only a handful of quick, hard thrusts before Aziraphale stills too, breathing a broken little moan into the side of Crawly's face. Crawly spares a fraction of a second to wonder if the angel's orgasm - if his holiness - was going to burn him. It wouldn't be the first time, he's been burned before. But it's just a warm rush of come, oddly satisfying, where the angel's still pushed deep inside him. 

"Crawly," Aziraphale's mouth presses at his cheek in a kiss, breath warm. "Are you alright?"

"Mmm, yeah." He's better than alright, he feels floaty and unmoored, whole body still trembling faintly. He's enjoying the stretch in his thighs, the way Aziraphale is just sort of holding him. And even though they've finished his fingers are still shifting on Crawly's hip, in slow tickling movements that feel weirdly affectionate. He doesn't want to draw attention to them, in case it stops. 

But then Aziraphale is carefully easing him up on his knees, slipping out of him, so he can shift their legs and sprawl into the bed with Crawly against him. He feels the shivery touch of a miracle, finds himself strangely clean. He thinks about protesting, but decides that the angel probably objected to the mess, not - not leaving something of himself inside Crawly. 

It's very strange to be this exposed afterwards, but also weirdly thrilling, to be allowed to relax next to the angel, bare skin still pressed together. Crawly wonder if he should offer him more wine, or maybe say thank you. He doesn't know what's expected afterwards. Humans all do it so differently.

"Did you...was that...good, for you?" Aziraphale asks cautiously.

Crawly makes a noise in his throat that he hopes is appreciative, because he honestly doesn't have the words to describe how he's feeling right now. He thinks he may be completely in love with the angel, and that feels terrifying and amazing, he's not quite sure how to process it, let alone have any sort of opinion on it. But he can feel how much Aziraphale needs to know, needs to make sure he didn't do anything Crawly wasn't happy with.

"Yeah, it was pretty good," he says thickly, and then realises that's not good enough, because the angel deserves better than that. "It was perfect."

Aziraphale stays until it gets dark, stays in Crawly's narrow bed, while they quietly discuss anything but the position they're in. Until the angel's almost apologetically putting his clothes back on, and carefully lacing his sandals. Crawly isn't sure if he should expect a kiss goodbye. Humans kiss each other a lot when they part, especially after sex. But he doesn't know if this was something casual to be done after too much wine, or maybe a gift to show Crawly that it could be nice. He doesn't know if they mean something different to each other now. He doesn't know if this changed anything.

He tells himself not to keep his hopes up. He should act the same way he's always done. Because it's probably best if he lets Aziraphale decide, he'll just cock it up, push too hard and too fast.

"So, thank you, for the uh -" Crawly gestures helplessly. "The sex." It sounds awkward when he says it. Should he tell him that he'd be perfectly happy to do this again, whenever really, if Aziraphale wants to? Is that polite, or is that too much? He doesn't know.

Aziraphale looks pained for a moment, then smiles and helps Crawly up, lifts his tunic for him to slip back into. Crawly hasn't bothered with sandals.

"Crawly." Aziraphale carefully pulls Crawly's long hair out from the collar, lets it run through his fingers for a second before releasing it. "Please know that if we can't - again, if I'm dismissive, if I do things or say things in the future that make what we did seem wrong, please know that it _wasn't_ , and that this meant - a lot to me."

"Nrgk, same," Crawly manages, trying not to react to his chest feeling a few sizes too small for all his stupid organs. And he thinks that he's probably going to spend the next ten thousand years at least protecting this angel from everything that tries to hurt him. Because Crawly thinks he's Aziraphale's now, whether he likes it or not.

Aziraphale does kiss him, it's hard and it's brief, and Crawly feels it for hours afterwards.


End file.
